


B&R100: Mrs. Fischer

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, M/M, Series, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-16
Updated: 2008-03-16
Packaged: 2018-11-10 17:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11131323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: It's Francesca to the rescue.





	B&R100: Mrs. Fischer

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

B&R100: Mrs. Fischer

## B&R100: Mrs. Fischer

  
by Dee Gilles  


Disclaimer: For entertainment only.

* * *

Benny & Ray 100 Mrs. Fischer Dee Gilles Rated G  
  
Francesca Fischer turned onto 43 for the short drive home from Fischer Toyota-Lexus to the house in Bryn Mawr. It had been a short but productive day; she had sold a Camry and two Corollas. She was now on her way home to meet with the architect on some design changes for the upstairs bathroom of their four-bedroom Queen Anne home. Damon was staying behind to close the sales office, and on nights when he closed, he usually didn't get home until nine-thirty.  
  
She glanced at the clock embedded in the dashboard of her Lexus. Four ten. Good, she had a few minutes to spare to stop by the Chinese place for takeout. Their new stove hadn't arrived yet, the kitchen was in shambles while they were waiting for the cherry cabinets on backorder from the factory, so they had been eating out of boxes for a while now. Francesca didn't mind. She'd never cared for cooking anyway.  
  
Francesca sighed as she sat back and enjoyed the soft quiet ride of her new car. It had been Damon's one-year anniversary present to her. She was still getting used to it. She breathed in the new car smell. As she cruised down the avenue, Francesca noticed that the leaves of some of the street trees had started to yellow just a little. She couldn't believe that fall was here already. Seemed like just last week, she and Damon were on Wananavu Beach, underneath a high palm tree and soaking up the rays, Chicago and their lives ten thousand miles away. Their honeymoon in Fiji had been a perfect two weeks of sunbathing, eating, diving, sailing, and sex. She had missed her family, her baby, but she wouldn't have missed a trip like that for the whole world.   
  
Francesca smiled when she thought of Carie. These days, she saw her a couple of times a week, yet she was surprised by how quickly she was growing, how fast she was picking up words. She hoped Carie would have a brother or sister soon; she and Damon had decided to try, now that the renovations were nearly complete. Francesca already knew which room was going to make the perfect nursery.  
  
Her thoughts wandered to Ben and Ray and she wondered again what was going on with them. She very seldom saw the two of them together anymore. She and Damon made it down for Sunday dinner almost every week, and some weeks Ben would bring Carie, and some weeks it'd be Ray. The last time she'd seen them together had been at Ray's birthday party. She was worried about them, Ray especially, who seemed more and more morose.  
  
As she turned on Bryn Mawr Avenue, she dug for her cell phone, locating it at the bottom of her deep purse without looking. She hit her speed dial. She listened to the phone ring. There was a bit of a hollow echo. After the third ring, Ray and Ben's machine picked up, and she hung up, puzzled.  
  
Strange. She knew that Ray had Thursdays off, so he should have been at home, looking after Carie. She ran through her list of phone numbers and selected Ray's cell phone. He picked up on the third ring.  
  
"Where are you?" she asked.  
  
"I'm home."  
  
"What- you didn't hear the phone ring?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah...I just...didn't make it in time."  
  
Ray's voice sounded odd.   
  
"You all right?" she asked.   
  
There was a long pause. "I'm fine."  
  
"Where's Benton?"  
  
"In class."  
  
"What's Carie doing?"  
  
Another long pause. "Umm, I'm not sure."  
  
"What do you mean you're not sure? She take the car out for a spin or something?"  
  
"Well, I don't see her right now."  
  
"What?!" Francesca blew through a red light, and cars honked at her.  
  
"I...I musht have fallen ashleep or somethin'," he muttered.  
  
Francesca took a long pause. Ray just didn't sound himself. She almost hadn't recognized his voice when he answered the phone. Something tickled in the back of her mind.  
  
It snapped into place. He'd been drinking. In fact, was probably drunk. Francesca hadn't seen Ray drunk in more than ten years....when he and Angie were on the rocks.  
  
"Hold on," she said. "I'm coming over." She hung up and banged a U-turn in the middle of Bryn Mawr Avenue, dinner and architect forgotten.  
  
VVVVVV  
  
It was 1992. Francesca had finished up her shift at the women's clothing department at Marshall Fields, and had gone to the "Color Me Badd" concert afterwards with her friend Ursula. She had a huge crush on Mark, and Ursula had a thing for Bryan. The two of them had had front row seats, and in fact they had camped out in front of the arena box office the night before to get them. The plan was that their dream lovers would spot them in the audience, and invite them onstage to dance, or backstage for a little more than dancing, and they would fall in love with them. She and Ursula had even talked about having a double wedding ceremony.   
  
Unfortunately, it hadn't worked out that way, and so after the concert, disappointed and heartbroken, they had gone to a bar and drowned their sorrows.   
  
Everybody was in bed by the time she got home. Only the light in the foyer was on. Ma had left it on for her. She had started to go upstairs when she heard a faint tinkle, like ice in a glass. She came back down the stairs and headed for the kitchen. She made out the outline of her oldest brother, sitting there in the dark. She turned on the bright overhead light, and he scowled in the sudden exposure.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"Ange kicked me out." He had a tall glass sitting in front of him. It was empty but for some half-melted ice cubes. A half-empty bottle of Fleishmann's Vodka sat on the table.   
  
She came and sat down across from him at the kitchen table. She didn't know what to say to that. Ray sloppily poured himself another drink, and gulped it up. The ice tinkled gently.   
  
Angie and Ray's relationship had been faltering for a while now, dying a slow painful death. What could you do? Francesca remained silent.  
  
She and Ray had done nothing but bicker and argue growing up. They didn't have a real lovey-dovey relationship where they could cry on each other's shoulders. Even so, she sat there while he burst into silent tears, just being there with him, supporting him with her presence.   
  
Eventually, he stood, swaying. Francesca took his arm and slung it over her shoulder. She helped him upstairs, to his old room. She took his shoes off and pulled the blanket at the foot of the bed over him. And then, she turned in herself. It was near dawn before she fell asleep.   
  
The next morning, Ray had somehow managed to get up and get himself to work. He was gone by the time she got up.   
  
Nobody was surprised when the process server rang the doorbell two weeks later, divorce papers in hand.   
  
VVVVVV  
  
Francesca pushed the door open, not even bothering to knock. Carie was on the floor with a big piece of paper, scribbling on it with fat Crayola markers. There were red, blue, and yellow streaks on the carpet around the paper.  
  
"Zia!" Carie cried as soon as Francesca opened the door. She ran over to her and threw herself at her legs.   
  
"Hi, Pumpkin! Where's Papa?"  
  
Carie pointed toward the living room, and Francesca picked her up. Pearson trotted out to greet her, too, sniffing at her leather stilettos. Francesca wrinkled her nose at the smell coming from the little girl. "Oh! Did you poo?"  
  
"Yeah. I poo."  
  
Francesca carried her into the living room. Ray was sprawled on the couch, facing the wall. There was a mostly empty bottle of something on the coffee table. Alarmed, she backed out of the room. "Well! Let's get you cleaned up!" She cheerily said to Carie. She hoisted Carie further on her hip and took her to her room. Pearson dutifully followed.  
  
Laying her out on her changing table, Francesca removed her little jeans and got her diaper off. She winced. What a stink! She went through wipe after wipe; the feces had started to dry on Carie's skin. She was surprised the little girl wasn't crying in discomfort. Francesca put a smile on her face, and cooed to her daughter as she cleaned her as gently as she could. Carie chatted to her around the thumb in her mouth.   
  
Francesca finished the task, put her in new pants and picked Carie up. She covered her cheeks with a dozen tiny kisses. Carie giggled, which never failed to make Francesca laugh too. She placed her in her crib, and grabbed a couple of stuffed animals from the floor and dropped them in. "You play with Pooh and Piglet, alright? I'll be back, and we're play together, okay?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Pearson. Watch Carie." She leaned down and scratched the husky between her ears.   
  
Francesca exited the room and gently closed the door. She marched to the living room, building up a head of steam. She moved to where her brother was lying comatose and now face up. His mouth hung open in a very unflattering way. She glanced at the bottle on the table in front of him. Chivas. And there were only a few ounces left. She grabbed Ray by the shoulders and viciously shook him. "Get up!" she said angrily.   
  
"Hey! Hey, quit it!" Ray complained. He pulled away from her and sat up.  
  
"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" She administered several light slaps to head.  
  
"Stop! Stop!" Ray cried, fending off the blows.  
  
"You've got a daughter now! What's your problem?" She slapped him upside his head once more for good measure.  
  
"Leave me alone!"  
  
"Ray! Talk to him! What ever the problem is, you gotta talk to him!"  
  
"When the hell am I gonna talk to him?! He's never here!"  
  
"Well, what are you going to do about that?"  
  
"I dunno!" Ray was red-faced. His eyes were bloodshot.  
  
"Well, you'd better think of something."  
  
Francesca helped her brother to bed, then disposed of the bottle in the trash, and took the trash to the dumpster. Back inside, she scrubbed her hands. She then called the architect and apologized for canceling at the last minute. Then she called her husband and told him she'd be over at her brother's for the rest of the evening.  
  
She checked on Carie once more, and on Ray. Francesca removed her heels, cleaned up the rainbow-colored carpet with stain remover, and tidied up the rest of the apartment. She went back into Carie's room to attend to her, and to wait for Ben to come home from school. The two of them had a lot of talking to do.  
  
FINIS  
  


  
 

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End B&R100: Mrs. Fischer by Dee Gilles 

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